


Remembrance

by Wxlves



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Execution, Heavy Angst, Its like 3am I don’t even know anymore, M/M, Post-Order 66 (Star Wars), Unhappy Ending, ill add more tags if I think of them later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28787622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wxlves/pseuds/Wxlves
Summary: CC-2224 died slowly, pieces of him chipping away like stone under an unrelenting pickaxe. Shard by shard, every last painful memory resurfaced; at first just flashes of sights, sounds, phantom touches. It was only later that he felt again, felt the agonizing ache of his own betrayal, felt that impossible, wonderful warmth of being known and loved, felt rage and sorrow and joy and everything else CC-2224 had once taken advantage of.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 66





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> this is for bthb “forced to watch”
> 
> It’s 3am and I just wrote this in one sitting so I don’t even know if it makes sense or if the writing’s good. what even are words?

CC-2224 died slowly, pieces of him chipping away like stone under an unrelenting pickaxe. Shard by shard, every last painful memory resurfaced; at first just flashes of sights, sounds, phantom touches. It was only later that he  _ felt  _ again, felt the agonizing ache of his own betrayal, felt that impossible, wonderful warmth of being known and loved, felt rage and sorrow and joy and everything else CC-2224 had once taken advantage of.

There was no defining moment Cody could pinpoint when CC-2224 had died. One day he was there, mechanical, obedient, the perfect soldier following orders, and the next Cody awoke in the dead man’s bunk, staring at the gray durasteel above him with only the cold comfort of his own transgressions for company.

How many dead at his hand?

“The rebel base on Pantora was eliminated, sir.”

“Rebel Destroyer Class ship  _ Stoic  _ has been destroyed, sir.”

“No survivors reported, sir.”

“The target has been disposed of, sir.”

_ Very good, CC-2224. _

Eight years of dedicated service to the Empire did not go unrewarded, even for an aging clone trooper nearing the end of his usefulness. All it took was a white lie, a carefully-maintained expressionless stare, and a level five access code, and Cody had exactly what he needed — an audience with Grand Admiral Sarkos.

CC-2224 was dead, but Cody would die a hundred deaths before lifting his blaster in service of the Empire.

A hundred deaths, he didn’t have. One was all he would have to work with, all he was able to give in order to atone for his crimes, to even  _ begin  _ forgiving himself.

Cody was sure the white-clad stormtroopers guarding the door could see through his mask, could see that it wasn’t CC-2224 but Cody who stood before them with military-perfect posture. CC-2224’s eyes wouldn’t be so pained, his shoulders heavy with the weight of a thousand deaths.

The stormtroopers saw nothing. They barely glanced at Cody as they waved him into the Admiral’s office, blast-resistant doors sliding shut with a pneumatic hiss and locking with a satisfying  _ click. _

“At ease. Why have you sought an audience with me, CC-2224?”

Cody dropped the salute, resting an armored hand on the blaster at his hip. “I would like to turn myself in for court-marshalling, sir.”

Deep furrows etched Sarkos’ brow. “For what reason?”

“I executed a Grand Admiral, sir.”

“Why is this the first I’m hearing of this? Why did you commit such a crime?”

“He posed a threat, sir.” Cody kept his eyes forward, fixed on the wall just left of Sarkos’ head.

“Speak plainly, trooper.” The admiral was growing impatient. “Posed a threat to whom? The Empire?”

“The Galactic Republic, sir.”

Too late, Sarkos realized who he spoke to; that Cody, not CC-2224, had requested an audience and that Cody, not CC-2224, now had a hand on his blaster. Sarkos’ expression of surprise didn’t falter, even when smoke curled from between his eyes and the sound of the blaster shot was swallowed by the recycled air.

Cody didn’t bother struggling as the troopers dragged him from the admiral’s office.

———

The Empire planned to make a symbol of Cody. A once-loyal soldier of the Grand Army of the Republic, one of the last surviving clone troopers, a physical embodiment of the last dregs of democracy… summarily executed over mandated broadcast.

Because of this, they allowed Cody his last words, on a stage for all the galaxy to hear.

He had no choice but to make them count.

Even with the looming presence of the stormtroopers behind him, with his hands bound painfully behind his back and the hard earth digging into his knees, Cody kept his head high. “Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la,” he uttered, the Mando'a rolling off his tongue with ease. His time was limited and he wouldn’t waste it on stumbling speech or teary eyes.

“The 212th attack battalion, led by Jedi High General Obi-Wan Kenobi.” In his cell, alone, he’d practiced. He’d tried again and again and again until he no longer choked on  _ that _ name. “Commander Cody, Commander Gregor, Lieutenant Waxer, medic Jaws.”

The stormtroopers behind him shuffled uneasily.

“The 501st legion, led by Jedi High General Anakin Skywalker, Commander Jedi Ahsoka Tano, Commander Appo, Captain Rex, Lieutenant Jesse, medic Kix.” It pained Cody to only name the officers as though theirs were the only lives that had mattered. Boil, Fives, Echo, Barker and Crypt and Spider… if he could only name every last trooper who had been killed by the ever-churning treads of the GAR war machine.

“The 91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps, led by Jedi High General Mace Windu, Commander Ponds, Commander Neyo, medic Orso.”

The stormtroopers behind him stepped forward, comms crackling as orders were barked through them. He was running out of time.

“The 104th battalion, led by Jedi High General Plo Koon, Commander Wolffe, Sergeant Sinker, Corporal Comet, medic Warren.”

Plastoid clacked softly as guns were raised. Cody took a deep breath.

“The 41st stormtrooper legion, led by Jedi High Generals Yoda and Luminara Unduli, Commander Gree, Sergeant Spec—”

———

Occupying his usual corner seat in a hole-in-the-wall tavern on the edge of Mos Espa, Ben Kenobi couldn’t tear his eyes away from the grainy holo-feed flickering above the bar. Try as he might, he couldn’t look away: not when they dragged the trooper onto the stage and forced him to his knees, not when he began rattling off a death toll dozens of names long, not even when the firing squad behind him cocked their blasters, clearly done humoring him.

Ben Kenobi was an old hermit with no stake in the Empire or the rebels’ success, no interest in the scarred and graying clone on the holo-feed and no reason to watch the morbid show before him besides pure, restless boredom.

And yet Obi-Wan had once loved him, had  _ been  _ loved by him. It was Obi-Wan, not Ben, who tried to soak in every last bit of Cody (the  _ real  _ Cody) for the days when his voice, his smile, his heart, would begin to fade from memory.

———

In a rebel base on a gods-forsaken outer rim moon, Rex refused to look. He refused to watch the bitter, hard-fought end of a man who deserved so much more than the lot he’d drawn.

He did, however, listen, hearing the familiar way his brother’s voice sounded around his name.  _ Captain Rex. _

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Kote.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Mando’a translations:
> 
> Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la — not gone, merely marching far away
> 
> Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum — I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal


End file.
